


another bloody love letter

by QConcerto



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood and Violence, Bottom Iwaizumi Hajime, Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Haikyuu Mafia Zine, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Fluff, M/M, Mentioned Kidnapping, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Top Oikawa Tooru, Wedding, Wedding Night, tattooed oikawa, whiny iwaizumi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27076210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QConcerto/pseuds/QConcerto
Summary: Iwaizumi and Oikawa have post-wedding sex (after Iwaizumi was late to their wedding, that is.)
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 2
Kudos: 190





	another bloody love letter

**Author's Note:**

> written for the Haikyuu Mafia Zine (2020)
> 
> If you just want to skip the graphic blood and go right to the porn, go right to the line break!

None of the blood on his clothes was his, but by the way the creamy white was blooming with deep red, it was hard for anyone to tell. Those fucking bastards wouldn’t be walking again any time soon -- likely never. What they’d done to Oikawa as a child would be the only way Iwaizumi could punish them. They’d ruined his chances of being a powerful fighter, of proving himself to his father, of him ever walking without pain. So Iwaizumi would ruin their chances of winning every chance he got. 

Iwaizumi ground his teeth, the blood dark against his stark white suit. 

There was no way he’d be able to hide this from Oikawa. Not today. Though, he supposed, there wasn’t much  _ point _ in hiding it. Oikawa and his fucking brilliant, annoying, perfect powers of observation would be able to tell what had happened on any regular day, let alone the day of his wedding. 

If Oikawa’s family - the whole extended, Yakuza part included - didn’t rip Iwaizumi’s head off, he knew he’d be worse than dead if Oikawa got to him. 

Technically, the ruined suit was Oikawa’s fault -- blood doesn’t tend to show up on black, but it sure as fuck does on white -- since in was his idea to chose white as the wedding’s main colour. 

The amount of blood on the ground was reminiscent of when Oikawa got his knee splintered. Iwaizumi hadn’t been there early that day, but he had been there when their boss, the  _ wakagashira,  _ and Oikawa’s biological father, had given out the punishment.  Surprisingly, that had involved very little blood, but instead echoing screams flooded the basement. 

Iwaizumi’s current orders had bypassed Oikawa’s father, had come right from the clan head. He had hoped to be done before the wedding, but no such luck. Instead, Oikawa was going to kill him, add an even greater body count to his wedding day. 

Of course, Iwaizumi didn’t want to be late, either.

He wanted to get married.

He just wished his suit wasn’t white. Well. By the time Iwaizumi arrived, it wouldn’t be, the intricate, once softly shimmering embroidery stained a deep, deep bloody red. 

At least his vows were still on clean paper. Iwaizumi would not stand for mirroring Oikawa’s disastrous, pain-induced confession, his knee splattered over the crisp white envelope he’d planned to leave unsigned, in Iwaizumi’s training bag. 

Iwaizumi patted at his pockets. He still had the vows on him, surely. They shouldn’t have fallen out, he’d tucked the notes deep into his pockets - two copies. He had to have one of them, surely. Frustrated he turned back to the pool of blood behind him, not that he’d have much luck, given the absolute saturation of the ground between the bodies. 

He ground his teeth in frustration. The bloody letter would just have to be lost, and Iwaizumi would have to make up the vows on the spot. 

Fuck. 

As Iwaizumi ran -- no point in trying to not be sweaty for his wedding now that he was soaked in blood -- he supposed that, retrospectively, there was more blood when Oikawa had been kidnapped. They’d barely finished their second year of junior high, and those assholes had decided it was a good and smart idea to kidnap the son of the ward’s Yakuza head.

They’d strung him up, tortured him for hours.

They’d taken a sledge hammer to his legs and crowbars to his torso.

Eventually, Oikawa’s family had found him -- and the people that kidnapped him -- covered in blood, his brown hair stained copper for weeks, his legs twisted in a horrible, unnatural, terrifying way, and his right knee showing through his skin, cracked and distorted. 

Iwaizumi held Oikawa’s hand, slick with his own blood, as he listened to his best friend sob about how much he ‘like-liked’ him, slipped him a bloody fucking  _ love letter, _ before he fell limp and lose and into a coma for weeks. 

Iwaizumi held on and never let go.

* * *

Oikawa smiled, satisfied with the impatient, flustered frown on his husband’s face.

“T-Tooru,” Iwaizumi sighed. “Please, don’t tease.”

“You were late to our wedding, Hajime. You’re going to cum when I say and only then, do you understand me?”

Iwaizumi rutted his hips up, pushed himself deeper onto Oikawa’s fingers, begging for some kind of release. 

“Do you understand me, Hajime?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Good.” Oikawa curled his unmarred fingers, sending bolts of heat through Iwaizumi’s body. 

The phantom touch of human blood that lingered even after a burning shower was fading against the cool of Oikawa’s soft, cool touch. Oikawa hummed and pulled off his kimono, showing off the tapestry of intricate tattoos over his back. 

“You look good like this, spread out for me,” he said.

Iwaizumi glared up at him, face red. “You’ve been toying with me for half an hour, Tooru. Hurry up.”

Oikawa pushed Iwaizumi down into the bed, his soft hands pressed electricity deep into Iwaizumi’s shoulders, pushed further down, biting at Iwaizumi’s lips and encompassed Iwaizumi under him. 

“Can’t believe people think  _ I’m _ the whiny one, Iwa-chan.” He pushed up the tattered shirt that had replaced Iwaizumi’s suit, and leaned back onto his knees. He watched as Iwaizumi shedded the redundant clothes and revealed a mess of scars. Like Oikawa, he too had tattoos, though in a much smaller capacity. Instead, his body was gridded with white lines, ranging from knife stabs to gunshot wounds.  Oikawa traced his fingers up Iwaizumi’s chest, nails scraping softly and coming to rest behind Iwaizumi’s neck.

“I love you, Iwa-chan.”

“You’d hurry up and fuck me if you did.”

“Say it back.”

“I just married you--”

Oikawa nipped at Iwaizumi’s earlobe. “Say it, Iwa-chan.” 

“Bloody hell, I love you too, now please, babe, please.” he bucked his hips up. 

“Of course, Hajime.” Oikawa said. 

Oikawa lathered lube over his aching cock, and prodded at Iwazumi’s fluttering hole before pushing in with no warning. 

They both moaned, finally, finally bloody joined.  Iwaizumi rocked his hips, whining and wriggling for Oikawa to do more. Oikawa complied, pushed himself deeper and thrust into his husband. He leaned forward and braced his hands beside Iwaizumi’s head as he rocked over and over, the drag of his cock sending waves of pleasure through Iwaizumi’s body. 

“Move to the-- to the left, Tooru,” Iwaizumi demanded.

Oikawa hummed.

“The  _ other left _ .”

“My, my, desperate babe?”

“To--” Oikawa jutted his hips. “Fuck! Please? Please Tooru?”

“Of course my love, I’m sorry.” Oikawa pressed a warm smile to Iwaizumi’s lips, and softly stroked his cheekbone. He sat back, knee creaking slightly, but his body was far too buzzed with pleasure to really care about his age-old injury.

“Legs up, gonna make you feel it tomorrow,” he said.  Iwaizumi’s legs weren’t exactly  _ long _ , but they were strong, and flexible, and his knees hooked over Oikawa’s shoulders and drove him deep into Iwaizumi.

“Love your hole, babe, love the way it draws me in, how soft it feels around my cock,” Oikawa moaned. His thrusts were erratic, and fast, and drove over and over into Iwaizumi’s prostate. I waizumi gripped at Oikawa’s shoulders, his deep, guttural moaning growing obscenely and unfairly loud.

“You want them to hear how much you love my cock, Iwa-chan?”

“Love your cock so much,” Iwaizumi said. “Love you,” he chanted. 

Oikawa pushed his thick, hot cock harder and harder into Iwaizumi, the flutter and tensing of his hole telling him how close Iwaizumi was. Oikawa nipped at Iwaizumi’s collar and sucked a deep hickey just above where someone would see the next day. 

“Tooru, I’m so close, please, please let me cum, please I want-- I want to cum.”

Oikawa smiled, the thrust of his hips slowed, and he dragged his nails up Iwaizumi’s body. “You can cum, baby, you’ve been so good, you can cum now,” he said.

With barely another two short rocks into his body, Iwaizumi spilled over himself, sticky white streaks of cum splattered on his heaving chest. 

“Felt nice, Tooru.”

“That’s good, Hajime,” Oikawa said and kissed his husband's flushed, debauched face. “Are you okay for me to cum inside you?”

Iwaizumi nodded, his voice too weak to trust, his mind a jumble of pleasure.

“Ok baby, tell me if it stops being ok.”

Iwaizumi nodded again.

The electric touch of Oikawa’s fingers on his hips rippled chills over his skin, made his hair stand on edge. 

Oikawa pushed himself hard and fast into Iwaizumi’s oversensitive hole. Iwaisumi’s raw skin clung to Oikawa’s pulsing cock as he continued to fuck his husband mercilessly, chasing his own orgasm.  He moaned and whined, frustratingly close. 

“Tooru, y’look so pretty, wanna watch you fill me up,” Iwaizumi said, his deep, ragged voice vibrating through their joined skin. His hands pressed tenderly into Oikawa’s heavily tattooed back.  Oikawa gasped and his hips stuttered, the wave of his climax close,  _ so close.  _

“C’mon, sweetheart, fill me up.” Iwaizumi met Oikawa’s thrusts with a lazy, controlled rock of his hips. 

Oikawa let out a euphoric yell as he emptied himself into Iwaizumi, his chest flushed, and limbs heavy. He pulled himself out, some of his cum dripping from Iwaizumi’s hole onto the sheets.  Ignoring the potential discomfort, Oikawa attached himself to his husband’s side and nestled his head under Iwaizumi’s chin. 

“I’m so glad I married you, Iwa-chan.”

“What, did you only just decide it was a good idea?”

“Rude! I take it back, I shouldn't have proposed in the first place!” Oikawa exclaimed. Iwaizumi scoffed. 

“I love you, Iwa-chan. So much.”

“I love you too, Shittykawa.”

“So much.”

“Me, too.”

“ _ So much. _ ”

“Bloody hell, Tooru.”


End file.
